


Pieces of Truth

by billiero666



Category: Green Day
Genre: Angst, M/M, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 11:12:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3690090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/billiero666/pseuds/billiero666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trillie angstfic based off of the Foxboro Hot Tubs song Pieces of Truth</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pieces of Truth

Billie Joe

I am always just a little bit surprised when I wake up next to him. Always just a little bit surprised at having someone I care about so much in bed next to me. Sure, there’s been other people in the spot that he currently occupied, but never for more than one night and never anyone quite like him. Because I sure as hell don’t deserve him. I laugh a little as he rolls over, taking the blankets with him. Looks like I’ll just have to get closer and share. I gently sidle up next to him, pulling the blankets up, wrapping myself around his slightly larger form. For now, all is quiet, but I don’t mind. We don’t usually do this, which makes it all the better when we do.   
He stirs a little and twists around in my arms. He’s so cute in the mornings, his fauxhawk dissipated into a mess of green almost-spikes and his eyes still hazy from sleep.  
“Morning,” I say, and he groans a little. He never has been a morning person. Damnit, I should have remembered. Just another thing I continually fail to do right. “You stole all the blankets, I had to get closer so you’d share.” He smiles and turns around completely so his head’s in my chest. Something about the moment makes me want to kiss him, so I pull his chin up and I do.

Tré

I wake up to find Billie spooning me. His chest is uncomfortably warm against my back so I twist around a little.  
“Morning,” he says, and then something about me stealing all the blankets. I still wanna sleep. I try to tell him this but it comes out as more of a groan, so I turn all the way around and snuggle into him. I, however, am interrupted by his mouth on mine. It’s a pleasant surprise but he breaks away sooner than I would have liked. I decide to take the hard-to-get route, even though he already has me. He doesn’t know this but he’s always had me, since that very first hello at the concert.  
“Hey, I need my beauty sleep!” I say, and he laughs, then takes my face in his hands.

Billie Joe

As I take his face in my hands, I realize just how pretty he actually is. Prettier than me. Big blue eyes, small, strong body, everything else a boy could want. I think for a moment of how horrible I am for him. Why he stays around with me, I will never know. I’ve given him more trouble than he creates on his own, which is saying something.  
“Shh,” I tell him, “If you get any more beautiful, I’m not going to be able to catch up!”  
“Oh, you’re plenty beautiful! Why do you think I’m still with you? It’s obviously not the brains, or the guitar. Can’t be the kissi-” I cut him off by kissing him again, the best way to do anything. This time it’s him who pulls back. Shit. Did I do the wrong thing?  
“It’s the kissing, oh, definitely the kissing, I lied before” he says, and smiles. Mental sigh of relief.  
“Well, let’s not do that again,” I tell him, “After all, honesty is the best policy.”

Tré

“If honesty’s the best policy, can I tell you the truth?” I say. Billie looks bewildered for a moment, worried, but nods.  
“I wanna kiss you again,” I say.  
“Why didn’t you just say that from the outright?” Billie says, and laughs, “I’ll see what we can do about that.” With that, he presses his mouth to mine for the third time before ten this morning, and for a moment, I can’t even think. Then his hands are in my hair and mine are on his back, his chest, his neck, anywhere and everywhere I can put them and his are the same. One of us- I’m not sure who- pulls back for a moment. Our eyes meet, blue to that fucking mind-blowing green-gold-brown whatever the fuck it even is, that color that’s driven me crazy since I first met it.

Billie Joe

“Shit,” I say. Instantly concern grows in Tré’s eyes, and I realize at some point I ended up on top of him and am now looking down at him. Shit, shit, shit.  
“What is it?” he asks.  
“You’re bleeding.”  
“What?”  
“Right there, you’re bleeding,” I say, and gesture to a spot on his chest that I got with a fingernail. He looks down, not really realizing that I just cut him.  
“Ah. I see. You seem to have put a hole in me.” He is as unfazed as I am fazed. I hurt him. I climb down off from him. I hurt him.  
“Here, I’ll get a Band-Aid,” I say, and he nods, sitting up and drawing the covers around him. I hurt him. I walk from the small bedroom to the even smaller bathroom, shutting the door so I can open the drawer with the first aid kit. I hurt him. I pull out the small plastic case and set it on the counter, catching myself in the mirror. I hurt him. One more thing I’ve done to him. I hurt him. I run a hand through my blue hair and grab a Band-Aid, putting the kit away and going back to the bedroom.   
I hurt him.  
I hurt him.  
I hurt him.

Tré

As he comes back into the room, he has a noticeable shake to him. My first thought is, shit, the second, I hope he’s okay. He’s got a Band-Aid in one hand and he sits down next to me, taking the wrapper off and sticking it to my chest.  
“There, all better,” I say, “Now, back to business.” I lean in to kiss him but he turns away.  
“No,” he says. This is not a recipe for something good. I know this well. I put an arm around him, his skin sticking to my own.  
“Hey, what’s wrong?” I ask him, and he shakes his head.  
“I fucked you up,” he says.  
“What do you mean, you fucked me up? I’m doing fine!” He shakes his head again.  
“No, I fucked you up. You used to- you used to tour, you had that sweet gig with the Lookouts, and do fun shit, and meet girls, and now you’re stuck here with me in this piece-of-shit apartment with me, living a day-to-day fucking blah.” Now, it’s my turn to shake my head.  
“The Lookouts was fun, but I was in that band when I was twelve, man. We gotta let that one go. And as for girls... well, look at you! You’re the only one I need!” This gets a little laugh out of him, but it doesn’t counter the tear I know he thinks I didn’t notice. I wipe it away to show him I did. This just prompts him to draw away from me, more tears falling from his eyes. I just want to pull him close to me, let him cry into me, but that never works in these situations. He turns away from me and pulls his knees up to his chest.  
“How can you say that? Nothing I’ve done has been good for you! I mean, fuck, Tré, you said it yourself, I put a hole in you! And that’s not the only one!”

Billie Joe

“The only other hole you’ve put in me is the one you put in me when you do stuff like this. I- I can’t stand to see you sad, babe.” No. That’s exactly the problem. I hurt him.  
“See, I’m hurting you! I’m nothing but trouble.” And I am. I know I am. I’m just- I’m just another problem dumped on him.  
“Billie. Look at me, okay?” I sniff and look up at him. I can feel the tears running down my cheek. Fucking weak. All I’ve ever been. Weak.   
“You are not hurting me in any way. Fuck it, you know what? I love you. You know that. And I wouldn’t love you if you weren’t good for me.” But I’m not.  
“How can you say that? You couldn’t love someone as fucked-up as me.” I let my chin drop back down to my knees.  
“Yes I can. I love you because you’re fucked up.”  
“No you don’t, you’re just saying that, I mean, you couldn’t do that.” Before I can justify this to him, or myself, for that matter, he interrupts.  
“Couldn’t do what?”  
“Love me.” I want to say more but I can’t; my breath is coming in huge racking sobs because he can’t, he couldn’t, nobody could love me. Why would they?And then he’s got me in his arms and he won’t let go even though I’m crying onto his bare chest, he’s not even wearing a shirt, Jesus, and he doesn’t care, just holds me there. And I think about it, sitting there like a child, crying my eyes out, and I think maybe it's true, maybe it's possible, because I care about him so goddamn much maybe he could care about me. But he couldn't... no one could love such a big fuckup... right?   
I do not realize I have been saying these things out loud.

Tré 

"No one could love such a big fuckup, right?" And then he stops. Just stops, like he's a wind-up toy in need of winding up. He pulls back from me and just breathes for a moment. I take the opportunity.  
"Billie Joe, whatever else you may be, you are not a fuckup. You're one of the few things in this world done right." He looks me dead in the eyes like I've just told him I'm Jesus Christ back from the dead, and those eyes, those fucking eyes... They're glistening with hope and fear and a deep, deep sadness, and maybe that's why they have so many colors, because there's so many emotions there and I can't do anything but look into them.  
"You're lying." And suddenly, everything is replaced with cool disbelief. I can't respond for a moment.  
"No, I'm not." A moment of unsurety. "First of all, you're cute as hell." I put in a nose boop for good measure and his face lights up for a second, then falls. "Second, you're the sweetest fucker on the planet. And you're a helluva good songwriter. And... I love you, okay?" And now I'm gonna get sent over the edge, I can feel my eyes fill with tears. They begin to fall. He moves to wipe one away and I catch his hand in mine.

Billie Joe

"I love you, okay?" The words echo through my skull, and for a moment, I do not breathe. Then I see that he's crying too and I cannot stand that and I move to wipe the tears away, but he grabs my hand. Then he begins to speak.  
"Look, you can't do this to yourself. Whatever you think is wrong with you isn't and I know, because I spend every goddamn day with you. I've seen you at your lowest and quite fucking literally at your highest. I've seen you drunk off your ass and stoned out of your mind and you know what, I love you, and if you can't understand that, then- then-" and he stops. I realize that maybe this is okay. It is okay. It is okay. It is okay. There is only one way to fix this, so I

Tré

And he kisses me again full on the mouth and we're both crying and he tastes like salt and I taste like salt and he

Billie Joe

I pull away, intending to say something and then his mouth is back on mine, it can wait and hands, hands everywhere and

Tré

Now, more desperately than before my hands are all over him and then he pulls back again. This time, I do not stop him.

Billie Joe

A moment of silence. His heart beats against mine, both racing in different times, like two drummers fighting for who can be the fastest. I have to do it. It's okay. It's okay to love him. I put my hands on his face.

Tré

"I love you," he says, and smiles a bittersweet smile.

Billie Joe

It's okay.


End file.
